I emerged too late too catch the remnants of Spring. My hibernation had been in vain, an unconscious attempt to circumvent the predilections of my genetic jailor. As my awareness bubbled to the surface, all manner of incidental manifestations flitted by like bats.

My first thought was that I had surfaced in a foreign land where my wayward mind might be finally accepted, if not appreciated. This was the stuff of fantasy, a dreaming of profound unimportance in the scheme of things. I had arisen to reclaim what was never mine.

Soon I lay high and dry on some forgotten shore, abandoned by my body. I guessed that my head was ultimately dispensable, a trinket from an unsuccessful invader, long gone across the seas. Crustaceans scuttled by and stopped to chew my flesh.

In the late afternoon the gulls came and pecked out my eyes. I had never really thought about sight until it vanished and then it no longer mattered. A storm was building over the ocean and the first rain drops spattered on my face. Life had never seemed so precious.